Here I Am On a Sunday Afternoon

Here I am on a Sunday afternoon trying to gather myself together enough to venture under the house into the crawl space to redirect the two 40 amp circuits the electrician had pulled for the new kitchen island several months ago. I was there last week squeezing between the dirt and subfloor and floor joists on my belly. During that time I kept thinking about my high school buddies Gary and Richard and all the others who had served in the U.S. Army and U.S. Marines during the Vietnam War. At one point I just stopped and wept in deep grief and respect for all that they had witnessed and endured over there in-country. I must have lain there for 30 minutes before I could collect myself enough to continue and exit too exhausted from the emotional ordeal.

The incident left me shaken with the thought of retuning under my house in my mind. So I retreated to the living room where I turned on the TV only to find an airing of a movie called, We Were Soldiers (2002) with Mel Gibson and Sam Elliot among the actors. It’s about 1965 when a U.S. lieutenant colonel brings his unit to Vietnam, unaware that their assignment will turn out to be the first major battle of the Vietnam War in the La Drang valley involving the 1st Battallion, 7th Cavalary Regiment.

It depicts the Hell all those combat veterans experienced over there and in other wars. It also brings out the heartbreak of those left at home as they received notices of their loved ones being killed and how they persevered through their grief. So once again I’m here sobbing from deep within my soul for so many lost and the survivors. I didn’t think much about until I saw this movie.

Now most would ask what the fuck I’m doing watching such a movie after having enlisted at the age of 17 into the U.S. Navy and serving two years in Vietnam on LST’s in “brown water with boots on the ground”. For years I’ve carried the guilt of having been declared a veteran with PTSD. Sure, my ship was attacked on the beach, an LST following us into the beach on another occasion was hit by an enemy rocket, and on several occasions I was forced to point a loaded rifle at begging children that approached our ship to keep them away. But what I experienced was a cakewalk compared to what my friends experienced. Yes, I’ve been told repeatedly that it’s not a competition and it’s unreasonable to compare the experiences. I suppose it’s a lot like having survivors’ guilt for those who lived through battles on the ground when their fellow soldiers died in combat. It’s a good thing until

So to answer the above question of, “Why watch such movies about war?”, I guess in part it’s about a reminder of what others endured and to show respect for that. Sure it leaves me shaken and upset more often than not in tears. But I feel like I owe it to all of them. It’s a lot like drinking too much or over eating. You shouldn’t but sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

Bottom line is “Thank you” to Lee, Gary and Richard as well as all the others who served. You are heros in my book.

Gary R. Cramer

December 2, 2018

I'm a U. S. Navy Vietnam Veteran

My half-brother’s father and my father both served in WW II and the Korean War.

My brother, Frank, and I each followed tradition by joining the U. S. Navy at later dates.

Taps and Amazing Grace have always brought me to tears thinking about my dad dying at age 52 as a migrant farm worker all alone in a tiny shack with just his puppy outside whining to be fed. They didn’t find dad inside for three days because they all thought he had gone off on another toot. I suspect his liver finally just dissolved or exploded from all the alcohol consumption. This has always struck me as ironic and an example of what booze can do to a life. My father used to be a Lineman for PG&E and a damned good one. One of my fondest memories of him is watching him climb with such ease up and down those wooden telephone poles. I beamed with pride and a huge smile as his foreman proclaimed to another worker one day my dad was the “best damned lineman they had anywhere in the company”.

Later he became a fully licensed Electrician and even helped wire the big Mormon Temple in the Oakland hills where he took me for a tour before it opened, proudly telling everyone I was his son. And later he opened his own TV/Radio Repair shop in Oakland off High St. So he was far from ignorant. And now he lies in an unmarked grave on Potters Hill in Traverse City, Michigan, a fact I hope to remedy some day; because he should be in Arlington Memorial Cemetery. Such a very sad waste and end of a real warrior who as a Torpedoman’s Mate, with his team, on the USS Princeton (CV-37) aircraft carrier were responsible for modifying torpedoes that took out the Hwacheon Dam in Korea via one of the first airborne torpedoes for that use, and turned the tides of the war…

And I’m proud to say most of the men in our family since have also served. I volunteered at age 17, so young, innocent and naïve. That’s certainly NOT the way I came out. As a 2-tour, Vietnam, brown water US Navy veteran who was in gunnery aboard two LST’s over a two year period I recognize that most civilians have absolutely no concept of what it's like in a conflict other than from movies that often sugar coat it. My first onboard duty was on a ship in the middle of a tropical typhoon between the Philippines and Vietnam. The USS Ft. Marion (LSD-22) rolled within one degree of capsizing. One night, while serving on the USS Polk County (LST-1084), we were beached when an VC attack hit in the dark of night with bullets and rockets flying everywhere and star shells illuminating soldiers running for cover. Since I was in Gunnery as a Fire Control Technician, my General Quarters location was on the bow near our front guns where I could watch the whole thing. Another time, while entering a Vietnam river, the LST behind us was hit by an enemy rocket. Luckily it was a dud and didn’t explode. There was the constant beat day and night of bombs going off in the distance and sometimes close by. To this day the sound of an overhead helicopter or diesel engine takes me back there. I watched two marines ready to kill each other with their combat knives in our mess line over the last cookie.

When you pull the trigger on a 40mm or 3” 50 gun, as I have, the shockwaves vibrate and rock you to the bone. Among other things I was ordered to do, I’ve had to point a loaded gun at innocent children to warn them away from our ship while they were in wooden float bowl boats begging for food. I’ve walked among them in their towns hoping none of them would pull the pin on a grenade and toss it in my direction as I passed by. So many of my fellow veterans and friends experienced a whole lot worse so I’m one of the lucky ones. I made it home safe and sound with all my body parts working. I wish I could post a video, that came with an original email to me, on my FB page but I don’t seem to be able to. It shows actual film footage of a 1945 attack off the coast of Okinawa on the USS Laffey that survived 22 Kamikaze pilots and their planes by not sinking. But it still cost many brave American sailors their lives and massive damage to the ship.

Some people protest my wearing an American flag pin upside down-an international sign of distress. I feel our country is truly in distress at this time. A lot of US veterans are starting to do this not out of disrespect, but instead to demonstrate their love and concern for their country. Life will teach you cannot pacify a bully. Most veterans understand, "If you want peace, prepare for war".

If I have upset you with these memories, I sincerely apologize as that was not my intent. Nor am I asking for your recognition or sympathy. But please take a moment to acknowledge those who put it all on the line to serve and protect us. When you pass a armed service member, or for that matter any firefighter or law enforcement officer, take a minute to stop and thank each and every one of them for risking their lives for your freedom and safety.

God Bless America and those who have served and those who continue to serve in her military. Happy Memorial Day one and all. Appreciate your freedom because of the many who have sacrificed for it. All gave some and some gave all.

Gary R. Cramer

May 28, 2016

Shop of Hope and Dreams

Shop of Hope and Dreams

NOTE: This is dedicated to Carol Wade-Lundberg.

A most special friend, Creative Writing Mentor and Muse.

Forever Remembered.

This will all probably seem equally befuddling to you as it has been to me. Thank you for traveling with me on this experience.

One day without explanation I found myself in what appeared to be an alley shop in a large city. Maybe it was in Paris, Berlin, New York or even San Francisco. I’m not at all certain any more. Yet it felt like a smaller more intimate village regardless of where it was. And it had all the mystique of Hogsmeade in the Harry Potter books. It was to the point that I instinctively wanted to reach to assure I had my trusty wand.

I found myself in what appeared to be some sort of antique shop that you would more likely materialize or float into rather than walk. The sign out front declared it Shop of Dreams. This should have been my first warning to be careful as I entered. With each step the hair on the back of my neck raised up further. The shop offered a wide scope of items such as jewelry, clothing items, accessories, furniture, lamps and much more; all of which were either new or used but mostly used. I gazed across the shop to see the familiar face of my lady friend. We had known each other for years and we maintained more of a sister brother relationship that never seemed to blossom into a more intimate bond with benefits. She was aimlessly wandering about the shop intently browsing through each and every item with that unique feminine urge to reach out to touch and feel anything of interest as if she was communing with it, sensing where it came from and each prior owner of it. From time to time she would look up at me with an adoring smile.

As I silently observed her, I sensed rather than saw a presence come up beside me. Then I heard the most soft and gentle voice tell the owner she would like to sell an item. Without being too obvious I tried to watch out of the corner of my peripheral vision but decided to amble around the corner of the display case to better observe what I discovered was a lady with an aura of red hair and deep green eyes. Her hand that surely was at home on piano keys reached out with long agile fingers and gently placed a small velvet pouch on the glass countertop. She opened it like it was a delicate and precious part of her very own soul. It had the look of gold in the shape of an orb with etching on it and I could swear to this day that it not only shined, but also seemed to vibrate from within. The clerk smiled and commented that he was used to her bringing in such items but this one seemed of a higher value. She nodded and told him in a low tone that it was most complex and difficult for her to obtain. He wrote down an amount and passed it over to her. She nodded and said that was fair and for the amount to be added to her account balance. She glanced up and as our eyes met for the first time I felt invaded yet at the same time welcomed and accepted. I instantly and with much effort dragged my vision back down to vague items in front of me under the glass display case trying not to seem interested in her. I have no doubt that I was flushed in the face as I desperately tried to look casual and uninterested.

In what must have been mere moments, but seemed like an eternity, she was next to me. Without looking at me she asked if I had been here before. I replied without looking up with a simple “No.”, wondering where my gift of speech had gone. She let out a low laugh that more resembled the sound like a dove cooing and she smiled. She motioned for the owner to come over and remove a pendent so she could inspect it more closely. He did and then went over to my lady friend to see if she needed any assistance.

She picked up the item and turned it over and over while almost caressing it. Suddenly she opened my hand and placed it there while not removing her own hand. I felt an amazingly strong surge of energy rush through my body like a jolt of lightning or the returning tide of the ocean. She asked if I felt anything and again with the inability to communicate I simply nodded. She whispered to me that I was special because most were unable to feel such things. We stood there next to each other almost holding hands while looking at this pendent. She gently took the pendent and while showing me different aspects of it’s craftsmanship the pin inadvertently opened and pierced my palm causing blood to appear. Without warning she drew my hand up and gently licked the blood away with a gentle sucking of her lips. As she removed my hand, she said she was sorry if she hurt me. I simply shook my head while I became totally engulfed in vertigo and understanding what it must feel like to be a mute.

For the next several minutes I have no concept of what either of us said when suddenly I heard the words, “Would you like to come to my studio and see some of my collection?” I faltered like a child with the first excited opportunity to taste Spumoni ice cream, pizza or see Santa Claus. I instantly looked up and across the shop to my friend who was talking to the owner while she curiously observed me with a smirk on her face and raised eyebrows. I finally stuttered out “I’m with her”. She again let out that cooing sound and said she was already aware of that.

She then asked if I would be interested if my friend was ok with it. My mind jumped on the cranial brake pedal with both astral feet as I skidded hopelessly out of control. My reply was, “Um, I guess so if she really doesn’t mind”. She smiled and said she would be right back. And before I could stop her, she was next to my companion quietly discussing what I feared would be the unset of a violent death at my friend’s hands. But to my total amazement she looked across to me and simply nodded with a tilted head and conflicted look and lowered her head while continuing to browse the shop never once looking back at me. I had the instant feeling of just having shot a beautiful deer as a tear slowly rolled down both her cheek and mine.

My newly found muse returned with a smile, entwined our arms and said, “Well that’s taken care of, and quite easily I might add, shall we go”. What, I pondered, had just happened and was my life about to completely derail. We walked out of the shop, which I failed to read the name of, and walked hand in hand as she navigated me through narrow streets and alleyways. When finally we stopped I was looking at what must be one of the most ornate wooden carved doors in the world. I stood there, slack jawed, as she gently traced the carvings with her fingers and explained that a prior acquaintance and lover had carved it for her. She then took a deep breath and turned to look deeply into my eyes while she held both of my hands in hers. “Now this is important and you must not be afraid”, she said. As I started to withdraw my hands, she held fast with such gentle strength that I froze instantly. She then took an ear bud and placed it in my left ear while she explained for security reasons there was only room for one person to pass at a time to enter her studio. So she would go first and then direct me remotely through the ear bud. She would be on the other end and there was absolutely no danger to me. She gently gave me a small kiss and disappeared behind the door as I wondered if I had just become the latest shmuck to be taken in by this scam.

Her voice suddenly drifted into my ear as she asked if I was still OK. I nodded and she said “good”. I then realized there was a security camera camouflaged above the door. As she instructed me how to open the door by twisting the knob in a series of turns and twists to the left and right, I hesitantly complied. She explained she had a very complex security system due to the value of what she collected. Once inside she apologized for the darkened state but there was an electrical problem and the lights were out. Again, a big internal warning said STOP! I felt I should retreat but suddenly realized I couldn’t find the doorknob. I took a large shaky breath as she told me how to advance down what felt like carpeted walls. I had that uneasy feeling like walking into a movie theater after the previews had started, half seeing but mostly feeling my way to my unknown destination. Again it was a series of left and right turns given to me verbally. At the end of the trek she instructed me to stand still on the swivel base and using the walls to rotate by hand, gave me what appeared to be random lefts and rights again. Suddenly and slowly I felt the wall open and I edged inside a darkened space. I heard her tell me to relax as a hand removed the ear bud and I felt her hands once again in mine and she gave me that gentle kiss again.

As I tried to adjust to what had just occurred, I had such an extreme range of expectations and doubts race through my nervous mind and I thought about the last time I saw my lady friend in the shop lowering her head. My new muse now explained my eyes would slowly adjust to the light level as the room slowly lit up and I realized there were no windows. The surrounding walls appeared carpeted. For the first time in many minutes I took in a slow deep breath. She excused herself and shortly returned in a loose fitting long flowing satin kaftan and two crystal glasses of red wine that I found too far surpass the $600 per bottle that I once enjoyed in Palm Springs with a past employer and friend. It was the first time I’d had any alcohol pass my lips in over four years. And it tasted even more deliriously better after she gave me one of her now oh so familiar and gentle kisses.

My new Shadow Avvie gave me a guided tour of what seemed more like a private museum complete with gentle background jazz instrumental music and soft alcove lighting that activated upon each of our stops to highlight the item. By now my nerves were totally abated and I felt oddly like I was finally in a place I belonged for the first time since I took my first SCUBA dive off the northern coast of California.

She suddenly stopped, looking at me with a questionable scowl. I braced myself not knowing if I had bad breath or had just committed some sort of faux pas. She looked me up one side and down the other as she slowly circled me like a hungry cougar on the hunt for fresh prey. She slowly shook her head and proclaimed this most certainly could not work like this. And before I could object she gently removed my vest and undid several of the top most buttons of my shirt. She next pushed me down into a chair that I was unaware of prior to this. She placed her wine glass on a small table and proceeded to gently remove my leather sandals and caress each foot. As she drew me back up into a standing position with a warm inviting smile, she snuggled in close and placed her head on my newly exposed moderate hairy chest and asked, “Now, isn’t that much better Mon Doux Amour?”. She turned her head and slowly inhaled my male hormonal scent exploding from every pore of my now surging body. We held each other for God knows how long. Slowly we shifted into a slow easy dance motion with wine glasses in hand as we embraced each other. It was as if the two of us were merging into one entity.

I had no idea by now what time it was let alone whether it was day or night. I slowly realized we had transitioned into another room complete with a large bed in the middle of the room that appeared to float from the ceiling because it hung from four strong looking chains at each corner of the mattress. I looked down into those soft pools of green eyes and said, “I don’t even know your name Mon Cheri”. She led me to her bed and as she backed me up to the bed she asked, “Does it really matter what name we go by as long as we are real and honest with each other? You can call me Carol, Sarah, Elizabeth, Kathryn, whatever you wish dear heart”. Just be completely open and in this moment.

She slowly removed my Tommy Bahama Hawaiian print shirt and undid the drawstring of my white cotton pants and lowered them to the floor. She backed away to evaluate her work and nodded as she said, “Very nicely put together if I may say so.” I nodded and said, “Thank you, but something is lacking here.” She looked at me quizzically as I slowly approached and bent over to take the bottom of her kaftan and slowly slid it off what I discovered could have been the model for the Venus de Milo statue but with arms. She giggled in what almost sounded like a guttural growl as I slowly slid my hands about her exquisite form exploring all areas as I turned her back to the bed and knelt down in front of her. As I proceeded to explore certain areas in an effort to satisfy her, first with my hands followed by my tongue, she slowly eased backward onto the bed while at the same time drawing me with her without losing any one on one contact. It was then I realized we were on satin sheets that matched her kaftan. As I felt her soft warm smooth skin touch both of my cheeks, I reached upward to gently caress each of her breasts. I gazed up into those glorious green eyes and as I tweaked each nipple I heard her emit a small but growing purring sound followed by a sensual moan.

Without going into more vivid detail, let me just tell you we explored each other’s body like starving castaways discovering a newly found deserted island that provided all the fruits and temptations we could possibly imagine or desire. We shared various oasis’s of pleasure repeatedly and literally shared the horizons of satisfaction as we soared together into paradise. It was with so little effort that we achieved apex after apex until we lay totally spent. I recall us together entwined in each other’s arms and legs as we drifted off to glorious dreams spent together and feeling I was at last whole and complete in my life.

I awoke slowly the next day to find I was alone and now the windows I could swear weren’t there the night before allowed warm rays of sunshine to invade the room. I found a note on the pillow next to me with a rose and small tray of coffee, juice and fresh cut melon in champagne. I called out “Hello?” in a desperate attempt hoping she would re-enter the room and my life. But I remained alone. As I sipped the juice and coffee in between the fruit I read her note.

“ Good morning dear heart. I must most graciously thank you for the once in a lifetime most amazing night of my life that we just shared. I hope you had an equal experience and you feel much better about where life has brought you and to me. About now I know you must have many questions. You must step forward onto life’s path to find the answers. I tell you that we are soul mates and you will always be a part of my heart and soul as I will reside in yours. Our kind of love will endure many lifetimes and in each instance we shall cross paths again and again into eternity. Do not be saddened by my apparent exit and absence as I am there with you even when not seen. You asked me at one point last night what my name is. You can call me Hope! Have a glorious life my love. Pls.. Stay the same. Keep up the Love & you.”

I sat there in shock and disbelief as I repeatedly read her note. I cried, I laughed, I sobbed uncontrollably. In the end, I showered, dressed and entered the narrow ally way through a newly found door not knowing where I was going or doing next. A block away, I decided to go back and for the life of me I could not find that door again. I sagged to the sidewalk against a wall and again sobbed like a newborn babe. How could I continue life without her beside me?

Suddenly I caught a whiff of her scent enveloping me. I instantly knew where I had to go next. I rushed up and down streets and alleys like a madman who had misplaced his wallet until I found that familiar shop front. I entered and there was the same man alone inside. I shyly explained to him briefly what had transpired since I left yesterday and asked where my lady friend that I first entered the store with had gone. He looked at me for a long time before he told me she simply seemed to disappear. One moment she was there and the next she was gone.

I then inquired about the green eyed red head I had left his store with the day before. He looked at me strangely and asked what I was talking about. He told me I simply walked out the door alone. By now I was becoming slightly convinced I was going insane. I demanded to know who she was and how often she came into his store. He repeatedly claimed he had no idea of whom I was referring to. In frustration, I walked toward the front door but as I did, I noticed one of the display cases held the pendent and numerous velvet pouches. I called the man over, who by now was unnerved by me. I asked if I could look at some of the pouches and he brought several of them up to the surface of the glass case. Each one had a note tied to the drawstring with a unique knot. And each time I tried to open one, it refused to yield to me. He watched me with an amused expression. Finally I just stopped and looked at him. He chuckled and said he had seen this happen many times. And very rarely had a customer been able to open any of them. Once and only once it happened. The customer discovered a very tarnished looking gold orb. The customer exclaimed that he was somehow familiar with this object but now it seemed heavy, dark and foreboding. The customer insisted he had to have it again and after much arguing he finally bought it and rushed out of the store. The clerk stood there very sadly with his head moving from side to side. I asked why he was doing that. He told me weeks later he left the shop to find that same person sitting up against the wall with a half empty bottle of Cognac and he looked like hell. He heard the man later took his own life. The clerk handed me his business card and it simply stated Shop of Hope and Dreams, Proprietor: Mr. Dreams. No address or phone number was listed. And he wished me good luck in my quest.

I thanked him for his patience and dejectedly started for the front door again. As I was about to leave, he called out and said, “You know, some things in life are so precious you only find them once and should cherish them through all of time. Others, once experienced should be left alone but other treasures existed on lifes path”.

I had an idea and went back to him. I explained I understood about privacy with his customers but asked if he would simply look in his account file and tell me simply yes or no if he had an account under the name of Hope. He thought a moment and said he didn’t have to look. He knew there was one such account but he couldn’t tell me anything more other than it was noted at the bottom of it that she had unlimited credit. As I started to ask about the client, he raised his hand and said he couldn’t say anything more.

Now I know you are going to think I’ve hit the bottle again when I tell you this one last thing. But after leaving and going a block, I decided to go back and buy one of those velvet pouched gold orbs. And I swear on my parents and grand parents graves, I could not find it again no matter how long I looked. I even went into various shops near where I was certain it had been and showed them the business card. They each repeatedly told me the same thing. People showed up from time to time with the same card. Their answer was always the same. There was rumor that many years ago there was a shop here by that name. All they had heard was that the proprietor’s last name was Dreams.

Thank you for sharing this with me. I hope you will find an opportunity in the near future to share another with me.

Live each day as if it was your last. Be happy, be healthy, find beauty and love in each day. Then find someone special to share it all with. I hope you never lose your Hope and Dreams. It’s debilitating to lose yourself with nothing to look forward to!

“Keep up the Love & you.”

Gary R. Cramer

August 17, 2016